What Tomorrow Brings Page 4

  He whipped from left to right with each hard movement of the aircraft, gripping his arm rest as the plane bounced up and down, sliding against the surface without losing speed. How long would they keep going? He waited for the plane to roll like a log.

  Objects flew about the cabin. A suitcase sailed his way hitting him hard on the shoulder. It caused him to veer to his right and into Red Sweater woman the same time a bag flew from behind and smashed her in the back of the head.

  She dropped forward and blood splattered onto Mark.

  He didn’t have time to register it, to scream or react, because the plane jolted one final time. It was them Mark realized he never buckled back in.

  He flew upwards from his seat.

  SEVEN – WRECKAGE

  Kit gasped and choked, then she coughed hard. So hard it was almost spastic and she fought for the ability to inhale.

  “I got her. She’s back.”

  The male voice was close. She could hear him in her ear and feel the presence of his body close by.

  She wheezed and tried to breathe. It was hard, almost as if something was stuck in her chest.

  “Here. Here,” a man said. “Take a breath.”

  She felt something touch her face then cover her nose and mouth. Instinctively she tried to fight it, waving her hand, pushing it, until she could feel the air flowing to her. Through her coughs she tried to inhale the oxygen.

  “It’s okay. Breathe.”

  Someone held her arm. Who was it? The fingers locked on tight to her.

  Kit opened her eyes and they burned. There was a gritty feel to her eyes, every time she blinked it was abrasive. Not only that, she couldn’t focus. Even if she could there was no way to see. Everything was dark, except a few dots of light here and there.

  As she shifted her eyes, she tried to make heads or tails of where she was. She couldn’t. It was impossible to see anything. Her hands felt free and she moved her fingers to feel.

  Fabric.

  A plane seat? Was she still in the wreckage?

  “Over here!” the man that was near her, yelled.

  “Is she injured badly?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  A bright light hit Kit across the eyes, a flashlight maybe and it blinded her even more.

  “Okay, stay here with her. We have more seriously hurt to get out.”

  “I can carry her.”

  “Don’t move her,” the second man warned. “We’ll be right back.”

  She wished she could see, but she couldn’t. She had to rely on her other senses. It didn’t take much to know a lot was happening around her.

  She could hear so many voices and noises around her.

  The sound of a truck wasn’t far from her. She listened as it sounded like it rolled away.

  Voices shouted left and right. People cried, people screamed in pain. All of that told Kit there were more survivors than just her.

  ‘First group is out. Keep looking.’

  ‘I found one.’

  ‘How bad.’

  ‘Got a bleeder.’

  ‘This one’s dead.’

  ‘Move. Move. Get this one now.’

  ‘We don’t have much time. Twenty minutes people. Move them now!’

  In the dark, there was one other sensation Kit felt … cold.

  It was bitterly cold and her body began to shiver. She tried to asses if she felt any pain other then the heaviness in her chest.

  She believed she felt all her limbs, but that could have been her imagination.

  “You cold? I bet you are. It’s cold. Here.”

  Kit didn’t know what he did, but he covered her with something.

  “We’ll get you on the next truck,” he said. “I promise. They’re loading now.”

  Kit nodded. Her left hand reached out and she felt his leg.

  “I’m here. I won’t leave you. My name’s Abe,” he said. “Are you in pain?”

  Other than a few aches, Kit didn’t feel anything excruciating. She shook her head.

  “Good,” Abe said.

  Suddenly it hit her. She came to her senses. Clarity.

  Zeke.

  “My … my son,” she tried to speak through the mask and she attempted to move.

  “Hold on.” Abe kept the mask on her.

  Another flashlight blinded her and as it moved from her way she saw the outline of two figures. In the dark she could see their faces because they were wearing biohazard gear and their masks were illuminated.

  “Let’s get her out of here and on the truck,” the one bio man said. “I’m not seeing much blood.”

  “A few scrapes and bruises. She wasn’t breathing when I found her,” Abe told them. “That’s the only thing I could see. I did CPR.”

  “We got her now. Thank you. You should get in the truck.”

  Kit felt them grab her legs and arms.

  “I want to help look,” Abe said. “I need to help.”

  “They can use people in the back.”

  Abe grabbed Kit’s hand as they lifted her. “I’ll find you.”

  Kit nodded. “My son ... find ... my son.”

  It was when they started carrying her that she felt the pain in her back. They didn’t put her on a gurney or cart, they lugged her out. The farther they moved her, the more things came into view.

  There were so many people in biohazard gear. Some carried people, some searched.

  As they carried her down the aisle of the wreckage, Kit saw more than she wanted to.

  Seats were toppled, the ceiling hung down and wires dangled about. People slumped lifeless still strapped to their seats, some missing body parts.

  While there were survivors, the realization hit her that there were so many dead and Kit internally panicked.

  “Stop!” she cried out. “Please stop.”

  They didn’t.

  “My son, I have to find my son. He’s here. He’s on this plane. My son.”

  She begged, she pleaded and cried. They ignored her. Once outside and free of the wreckage, they quickly carried her to the back of a truck.

  Her entire body filled with worry and anguish. Her trembling from the cold turned into trembling from shear fear.

  Where was Zeke? What happened to Zeke?

  As the open back truck rolled away, Kit stared up to nothing but black. There was no moon, no stars.

  No amount of physical pain compared to the pain she felt over her child, the feeling of loss and not knowing what happened to him.

  Defenseless and alone, all she could do was sob. “Oh my God, my son. Where is my son?”

  EIGHT - FLIGHT DECK

  He had been a commercial airline pilot for twenty-seven years. He wasn’t wet behind the years and had logged more flight hours than most pilots he knew. He was well aware of the ins and outs and believed he had seen it all, until that night when Captain Scott boarded the plane for a flight he routinely manned.

  The Seattle to D.C. red eye. He had expected three solid days off but was called in to fly flight 2468 because the scheduled pilot had an emergency. Captain Scott was fine with that, he had taken that flight many times. He thought nothing of it when he entered the airport early, something he always did. Then he arrived at the gate. There seemed to be less people and they were already offering seat vouchers. Even stranger, Flight 2368 was already on the tarmac.

  Typically it was never there, he usually spent time talking to the workers at the counter until the plane arrived and unloaded. He loved being the first one on board.

  The counter people didn’t say anything, other than the previous flight was early. They resumed trying to buy seats.

  “Are we that overbooked?” Captain Scott asked.

  “Yes, and we can’t figure out how it happened, other than a glitch in the system,” the counter woman replied.

  He thanked them and made his way to the plane. Seeing how it was early, he expected to see maintenance workers and a cleanup crew. Not the actual flight crew. To make matters ev
en stranger, he didn’t know a single one of them.

  They were preparing the cabin and doing preflight. They acknowledged his presence and that was it.

  The reiteration that he hadn’t seen it all happened when he tried to squeeze his larger body into an already crowded cockpit.

  Two men in suits stood in there.

  “What’s going on?” Captain Scott asked.

  “Abram James Scott?” the one man asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m special Agent Staab, Homeland Security. You’re Abram Scott and your brother is Senator John Scott, chairman of the Armed Services Committee.”

  “Yes, what is this about?”

  “Can I see your right hand, Abram?”

  “Abe,” he corrected and extended his hand. “Again, what is this about?”

  The other agent placed Abe’s hand on what looked like a tablet and scanned it. “It’s him,” the agent said.

  “Abe, I’d like you to meet your co-pilot on the flight,” Agent Staab said,

  “My co-pilot?” Abe asked. “I know my …”

  The co-pilot turned around. He wore a military flight suit and like every other crew member, Abe didn’t know him.

  “What the hell?” Abe barked.

  “This is Colonel Ray Carillo, United States Air Force,” Staab introduced him. “He will co-pilot with you until we must relieve you of duty.”

  “Is this a joke?”

  “This is no joke, sir.” Staab nodded at the other agent.

  They closed the cockpit door.

  Abe just couldn’t discern exactly what he was feeling and which emotion seemed to encompass him the most in the moments after of getting the news. A part of him was angry, a part sad, and even a part of him still held on to the hope that it just wasn’t going to happen.

  “Do you need a moment?” Agent Staab asked as if he delivered some minor bad news.

  Abe turned his head and just looked at the agents. “A moment?” He chuckled in disbelief. “I need more than a moment.”

  “Take all the time you need. Absorb it. Get your head in the game. We have work to do.” Agent Staab placed his hand on Abe’s shoulder in some sort of attempt to show comfort, but Abe wasn’t buying that.

  Was he for real? Was he serious? He has just delivered the news to him as if it were a bullet point meeting memo, or a debriefing. Factual, no emotions, Abe stared ahead as he listened. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be happening.

  “To ensure the continuity of government,” Agent Staab explained. “There is a protocol in effect that required the evacuation of essential personnel and their immediate family. To move such individuals to a secure location in the event that an attack was imminent … a nuclear attack.”

  Wait? What? Nuclear attack.

  “As part of COGCON 1, you are being evacuated. Because this was a designated flight, per your experience you are mandated to fly this plane until such time that you are relieved of duty.”

  “When will that will be?”

  “When we land at our desired location, or in the event something else unexpected happens.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Abe said. “What the hell is happening? Speak English.”

  “We are preparing for attack. You are being moved out to a location in New Mexico,” Stab said. “Intel has told us there will be a full scale attack on the United States at approximately zero six hundred hours Eastern seaboard time.”

  “Are they sure?” Abe asked. “Nuclear war.”

  “We believe nuclear and biological weapons.”

  “Is everyone on this plane part of this evacuation?” Abe asked.

  Staab shook his head. “No. About sixty percent of the one hundred and eighty on board are essential personnel, or the immediate families. The remaining ones are just lucky.”

  Abe scoffed at that. Lucky? No one was lucky.

  “Only twenty know the truth,” Staab said. “That would be the flight crew, United States soldiers and a couple other dignitaries.”

  A hand full of people including Abe knew that war was on the horizon? It was speculated, but not proven as fact. They were moving people out as a precaution.

  Agent Staab stated that while they were acting on reliable information, there was no way of knowing for sure until they were in the air.

  The course of the flight would change without the passengers’ knowledge. The plan was to land the plane, get everyone secure and wait out not only the attack but response of the United States.

  Abe had no family other than his brother. Leaving the plane was not an option.

  So Abe decided if he was going to be a part, then he was going to make sure his passengers were safe. He was told that the secure location had a runway and he would land safely.

  He argued with them about the charted course, there were other ways to go to New Mexico other than through Colorado.

  Since the knowledge of the attack wasn’t public, they wouldn’t get clearance to change course early on.

  Clearances didn’t matter much, an hour into the flight, all wifi went down and they lost communication with any towers.

  Something was happening on the ground.

  Shortly after they entered Colorado airspace, the computer systems went down. Staab seemed to have some sort of radio communication. That was their only source of information.

  Just after that. Abe saw what he believed was the most frightening vision. The sight of rockets sailing into the air of a clear night. There were hundreds that had been launched.

  They jetted toward the sky leaving a bright trail of ominous steam in their path.

  Their destination... the enemy.

  Did we launch first, or did they? It didn’t matter, devastation was forthcoming.

  “Holy Jesus,” Colonel Carillo said. “We won’t make it.”

  “Won’t make it where?” Abe asked.

  “To our destination. We need to land now. If a nuke goes off we’ll drop from the sky.”

  “Land? Where you going to put her down?”

  “Where ever we can.”

  Agent Staab who had remained in the cockpit stood up. “You are relieved of duty Captain. Colonel Carillo and myself will take over from here.”

  “Oh, so you’re a pilot now?” Abe asked sarcastically.

  “I am. Thank you for your service. You can stay here, or take a seat in the cabin.”

  “What? Are you kidding me?” Abe argued. “Let me land this plane.”

  “Colonel Carillo and I will land the plane.”

  “Has he ever had to do a forced landing of a 757?” Abe asked. “I have. It’s not easy. You can’t just set her down. We don’t know what’s below.”

  “You are relived Captain.” Staab placed his finger to his ear, listening. “We have four minutes to impact.”

  Abe’s heart raced out of control. Four minutes to impact. He undid his belt and abruptly stood.

  Staab took over the seat, speaking to the colonel as if Abe wasn’t even in the cockpit. “We’ll be approaching a tangible landing area, thirty miles east of Colorado Springs, crews are already en route from Peterson, or Schriever.”

  “What about New Mexico?” Carillo asked.

  “No go for now. This is plan B. Let’s put her down.”

  Abe planned on staying and maybe if needed, helping, but he knew his presence was useless. No one was saving them.

  If they had four minutes until impact of the first nuclear weapon. There was no way even as experienced as he was, he could land the plane. Not under that pressure and without being certain what was below. They could hit a mountain range or houses.

  They were going to do a forced landing and even if the plane somehow miraculously survived, they were facing a nuclear weapon thirty miles or so from NORAD.

  It was a lose-lose situation.

  Just as he started to leave, he saw the first flash of light.

  Then another.

  He expected an instant loss of power, but that didn’t happen. He knew it would.
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  “Was that a nuke?” Carillo asked.

  “I don’t know,” Staab answered. “I’m not seeing any fire. Maybe it was something else. Biological maybe, conventional.”

  Abe couldn’t take it. It was over. The first impact sent him into a state of despair.

  He wasn’t going to stand in that cockpit, watch the world go ablaze and then witness first hand as the plane nosedived powerless from the sky.

  He exited, shut the cockpit door and went immediately to the galley.

  He grabbed a handful of liquor bottles, uncapped them and downed them quickly. He consumed at least four while standing there, then another two as he walked straight through a crowded first class into the main cabin.

  It was dark. He looked about the passengers, they were sleeping and so unaware of their horrible fate that lay head. He spotted only a few who were still awake. One, a women, she locked eyes with him as if she knew something was up.

  He acknowledged her, then Abe took the first empty seat, buckled his belt and waited.

  It would only be a matter of minutes and it would be over.

  Abe expected the landing to not go well, for the plane to lose power and the nose to break off the second they hit ground. He did not, however, expect to live.

  Though he had buckled in, he didn’t plan on taking the crash position. Part of the protection of bracing was the seat in front and Abe took an empty seat in the front row.

  The plane had descended quite a bit and hadn’t lost power, for a split second Abe was hopeful.

  Maybe they could land the plane.

  Then in the midst of the flight attendants ‘brace’ chant, the cabin brightened as the residual flash from bombs hundreds of miles way flowed into the plane. And the interior remained illuminated. The aircraft picked up speed, angling forward.

  The moment the craft went quiet and the engines all lost power, Abe made a last second decision to brace.

  He placed his head as close to his knees as he could, grabbed his ankles and the impact came a second later.

  His buckle snapped. Sending him flying forward into the separation wall and the folded upright crew seat... Because of his bent over position his shoulder made the connection first. Abe didn’t recall much of the remaining sixty or so seconds of the crash, only that he curled his body as tightly as he could into a ball and held on to that seat.